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Abe’s Bar-B-Q in Clarksdale, Mississippi
Legends are curious things. Born from the land and carried through generations, they weave myths and alternate histories, inviting us to live within their stories, to be guided by them, and to understand a place more deeply because of them. Occasionally, these legends brush against reality, embedding themselves into our collective culture: take Robert Johnson and Abe’s Bar-B-Q. The story goes that a young Robert Johnson, eager for greatness, sought a Faustian bargain at a crossroads. There he met the devil, who in exchange for Johnson’s soul imbued him with unparalleled mastery of the guitar. Over time, cultural tourism and convenience declared that crossroads to be the intersection of Highways 61 and 49 in Clarksdale, Mississippi. Whether or not this is true doesn’t really matter. What the legend means for the Delta holds true. Also situated at this storied crossroads is Abe’s Bar-B-Q. The place has been open since 1924, though only at its current location since 1937 or 1950, depending on who you ask. Pat Davis Sr., the current owner, likes to say that Robert Johnson may have been sitting on a crate under a Sycamore tree eating some of their barbecue when he made his pact with the Devil. Maybe or maybe not, but either way it’s a good story. And who wants to ruin a good story? Regardless of its mythical connections, Abe’s has earned its reputation as a purveyor of classic Mississippi barbecue. The pork sandwich and rib tips are indulgent, smothered in a sweet, mild sauce. The coleslaw is tangy enough to balance the richness of the meat, and the tamales bring just the right amount of heat to round out the meal. Will Abe’s become a legend of its own, its story passed down alongside that of Robert Johnson? Would travelers flock to it without its prime location at the crossroads of blues history? Hard to say. I’m at a crossroads here. But one thing is certain: you don’t need to be a legend to make damn good barbecue.
Legends are curious things. Born from the land and carried through generations, they weave myths and alternate histories, inviting us to live within their stories, to be guided by them, and to understand a place more deeply because of them. Occasionally, these legends brush against reality, embedding themselves into our collective culture: take Robert Johnson and Abe’s Bar-B-Q.
The story goes that a young Robert Johnson, eager for greatness, sought a Faustian bargain at a crossroads. There he met the devil, who in exchange for Johnson’s soul imbued him with unparalleled mastery of the guitar.
Over time, cultural tourism and convenience declared that crossroads to be the intersection of Highways 61 and 49 in Clarksdale, Mississippi. Whether or not this is true doesn’t really matter. What the legend means for the Delta holds true.
Also situated at this storied crossroads is Abe’s Bar-B-Q. The place has been open since 1924, though only at its current location since 1937 or 1950, depending on who you ask. Pat Davis Sr., the current owner, likes to say that Robert Johnson may have been sitting on a crate under a Sycamore tree eating some of their barbecue when he made his pact with the Devil. Maybe or maybe not, but either way it’s a good story. And who wants to ruin a good story?
Regardless of its mythical connections, Abe’s has earned its reputation as a purveyor of classic Mississippi barbecue. The pork sandwich and rib tips are indulgent, smothered in a sweet, mild sauce. The coleslaw is tangy enough to balance the richness of the meat, and the tamales bring just the right amount of heat to round out the meal.
Will Abe’s become a legend of its own, its story passed down alongside that of Robert Johnson? Would travelers flock to it without its prime location at the crossroads of blues history? Hard to say. I’m at a crossroads here. But one thing is certain: you don’t need to be a legend to make damn good barbecue.
